


Outsiders

by ReynaAtTheEnd



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Affectionate Sex, Byleth has emotions, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Heterosexual Sex, Love Confessions, set just after Jeralt's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21543211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReynaAtTheEnd/pseuds/ReynaAtTheEnd
Summary: Claude asks to borrow Jeralt's diary. Byleth is strangely scared by that. Claude ends up discovering exactly what made Byleth consider herself an outsider, and realizes he's in too deep.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 16
Kudos: 406





	1. Chapter 1

“Teach...may I borrow that diary?”

Honestly, Claude had expected Byleth to get a little angry at him. Okay, maybe a _lot_ angry, as much as his emotionally repressed friend was capable of. He'd only given the question a couple seconds of thought before blurting it out, and as soon as the words got away from him he really wished he could take it back and sit on it for another few weeks. Unfortunately, he couldn't turn back time, so instead he scrambled to do damage control. “I know how important it is to you, but I'm not asking lightly! Please, allow me to borrow it. I'll be careful, I promise.”

Byleth stared back at him, clutching the leather book against her chest. He sucked in a sharp breath that he hoped was unobtrusive because of the look in her eyes.

He had expected anger. He hadn't expected _fear._

“T-That's...” Byleth bit her lip and jerked her head to the side, knuckles turning white on the spine of the book. “That's...” She ducked her head. “Claude...please don't...” Her voice was so soft it was almost a whisper.

“Don't what?” Claude asked, involuntarily reaching out for her before checking himself. “Look, if I asked to soon, you can punch me, I promise. But if we can find out what changed for Jeralt, we'll know why he left the monastery...”

“But then you'll _know._ ” Byleth whispered back. “You'll know about me. About what I am.”

 _What._ Not who. _What._

Claude dimly thought that the words set a new record for how quickly his blood went icy cold. He must have been staring, because his indomitable, unstoppable Teach visibly _shrank_ back into herself, looking everywhere but at him. “Claude...you asked me when I first became your teacher if I chose the Golden Deer just to get to know you better. I know you meant it as a joke...but it was the truth.”

“Huh?” _Wittiest response ever,_ Claude chided himself in the midst of his stunned, reeling thoughts. _Clearly you are the soul of cleverness, Duke Riegan._

“When you looked at me...” Byleth hesitated, biting her lip. For a moment she seemed to be at war with herself; then there was a flicker in her eye, a look that Claude recognized as her coming to a decision. “The first time we met. After the bandits, after the fight, when the three of you tried to recruit me one by one... You must understand,” She looked away. “No one had ever looked at me the way you did. No one but my father.”

“I don't understand,” He said quietly, even as a childhood memory of thrown rocks and cruel laughter flickered before his eyes.

“Don't you?” She looked at him. “I was the Ashen Demon. I once had an arrow pierce through my shoulder during a battle; I completely ignored it until after I finished my objective. The woman we saved wouldn't go near me, though. She called me a freak. No normal human could treat such pain as if it didn't matter.” Her finger brushed against the cover of Jeralt's diary. “I've always been like that. Ever since I was a child. People looked at me and saw death, saw nothing. An empty doll, a gargoyle, a corpse-”

She flinched at the last word, taking a shaky breath. “People looked at me like I was something great and terrible, a monster out of a fable, or a useful tool. ...And then I met you.”

Those blue eyes flickered up at him. “That night...you saw me the same as everyone else. Dimitri was disturbed by how callous I was, cutting down those men. I don't blame him. Edelgard regarded me as a potentially useful tool; right up until the last minute she made such blatant overtures at me I was genuinely concerned she wouldn't take rejection gracefully. But you didn't do any of that.”

“You smiled at me. You laughed and teased me and prodded me for stories as if I were a completely ordinary person. When the mercenaries told you I never smiled, you...you just took it as a challenge; and – and you _succeeded_!” She smiled. “Do you remember? It was dinner, a little while before the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. You made me laugh. I couldn't believe it. I was, was so overwhelmed by everything I was feeling in that moment...and you looked so happy for me. You were happy that I was happy. I'd never been...”

“I remember,” Claude said faintly. His heart was racing so fast it hurt, and he wondered if she could hear it in the quiet of Jeralt's room. “How could I forget? You're awfully pretty when you smile, Teach.”

She turned a bright red for a moment. “Y-you're such a...” She stammered, shaking her head. “You're still saying that...” She shifted the diary in her arms. “I...I'm happy, Claude. As strange as it is to be teaching the others, almost the same age as me...they're all good to me. After the first few lessons, they looked at me the same way you do and I...I'm just...so grateful...”

“You're my...” She stopped, that little warring expression momentarily crossing her face. Then, seemingly unable to bear looking at him anymore, she dropped her eyes to the floor “You're my first and dearest friend. I want to help you find all the answers you're seeking. But...but if I give you this...you'll won't ever look at me the same. The way you looked at me then.”

Claude stared back at this beautiful girl, his fellow outsider, and almost wished he could die – that the ground could swallow him whole.

 _It was an act._ He wanted to admit it. Not to hurt her, not to spit in the face of the pain she'd just expressed and the affection she'd voiced; but because she deserved better than what he'd given her, deserved to be furious at his thoughtless cruelty.

_When I first met you I was no better than Edelgard. I wanted you to choose me because you were powerful, fascinating, because I was curious about you and your father. I smiled, teased, did everything you said because I knew better than anyone that sweet, honeyed smiles sway more hearts than the princess bluntly desiring your sword arm above all else. I wanted to endear you to me so you would support me in my plans._

_I used your loneliness. The same way others used_ me _more times than I can count._

“Teach,” he managed. “I...I'm touched. Not a lot of people...well, I haven't been called a friend very often.” _Hilda and now you. That's it._ “So I wish I knew what to say to convince you there's nothing to be afraid of.” _Because it didn't last it started that way but I'm different now you walked past the walls I set up around my heart as if they never existed-_ “You've saved my _life_ , Teach. You're...you're my friend, too. You're important to me. You know that, don't you?” _It's true I swear I know I'm always lying but not about this-_

Byleth stared back at him. Her fingers trembled on the book. “What if I'm not what you think I am?” She asked softly. “What if I'm not...not like any of you?”

“What would it matter?” _I've been there I know that feeling I could never hurt you with that-_ “You're Teach. Who you are, where you came from, none of that changes anything about what we've been through together the last few months. Nothing could change the fact that you're my friend; the best I've ever had.”

She smiled a bit, and the look of fragile hope in her eyes was a knife in his heart. ( _How many times had he had that hope shattered? How many times had it been deliberately cultivated as a means of getting close enough to kill him?_ ) “Thank you, Claude.”

She hesitantly loosened her grip on the diary, looking down at its cover and dusting it with the back of her hand, gently and carefully. Then, with one more hesitant gesture, she offered it out to him. There was still fear in her body language as he carefully accepted it, but it lay underneath the hope.

“I'm forever in your debt, Teach.” He said, smiling back at her. Hoping it hid away his turmoil. “Anyway...let me fill you in what's going on lately. Rhea dispatched the knights to various locations in a frantic search for the enemy. There's a rumor that she's already secured some information. Something big is going to happen soon.”

Claude didn't like that flare of rage in his beautiful professor's eyes. How much pain did she have to be in to show so much anger when nothing before had raised it? How could he keep her from running in over her head in her desire to get revenge? “If you find out where the enemy is, and want to do something about it yourself... If you ask, I-” He paused for a split second. “No, scratch that. All of us students would gladly lend a hand. Even if that meant going against Lady Rhea's wishes. ….Don't forget that.”

“I won't.”

How could so much heartbreak, gratitude and relief fit in two simple words?

“Now go,” He said, a soft note of pleading in his voice. “Everyone's worried about you. Show them you're at least in slightly better spirits.”

\+ _ + _ + _

Ultimately, despite _feeling_ literally sick with guilt, Claude did _not_ throw up when he reached his dorm room. He kind of _wanted_ to, but it wouldn't take. The diary felt heavy in his hands as he leaned against his door, letting out a long breath and staring blankly at the ceiling.

 _She's just like me, and I was using her._ For all that he'd commented on her being an outsider, not explicitly raised in the faith, odd and unusually quiet, he hadn't quite thought they had _so much_ in common.

He'd been called a freak. He'd had people stare in contempt and distrust at him. He'd been called less than human. _How did I not realize it right away? Why didn't I see the sad and lonely eyes that were just like mine?_

Slowly he walked over to his bed, brought his lamp closer, and hesitantly began paging through Jeralt's diary. _I owe her. How the hell do I even start to apologize for that?_ His stopped close to when his Teach would have been born, and started reading. If he had the damned thing, he needed to make good on his word and get to the bottom of the mysteries swirling around Teach.

Sir Jeralt back in the day was...well, there was no other way to put it. The man was a _dork_ , a romantic so blatantly in love with his wife – mysterious Lilah, who had lived in the monastery her entire life and never set foot in the outside world – that pages upon pages of the diary were full of poetry, memories of romantic outings, and drafts for love letters. Claude awkwardly turned past them, knowing it was none of his business, until he found the entries dedicated to her pregnancy and eventually the birth.

Byleth had told him that her mother died in childbirth. But she hadn't said that there had been a fire. She certainly hadn't...

“ _The child she gave her life for doesn't make a sound. Didn't even cry at birth.”_

“ _Lady Rhea says not to worry, but a baby that doesn't cry...that's not natural."_

“ _I had a doctor examine the baby in secret. He said she was healthy but she had no heartbeat. No heartbeat!_ ”

Claude reread the passage twice, then three times. His fingers trembled. “That's impossible.” That didn't make _sense_. No one could live without a heartbeat! No human...

“ _I used to think the world of Lady Rhea. Now I'm terrified of her._ ”

Rhea had done something to Teach. At least, Jeralt suspected she did. Claude's mind spun, going over every time the Archbishop had hovered about his professor, motherly and so obviously affectionate, and felt his skin crawling. What the fuck could she have done to _rob Teach of her heart_? How kind of magic made someone live without a heartbeat? What could be _gained_ from that?

He closed the book, his hands shaky.

_Teach...when did you read this for the first time? How long have you wondered if you're even human?_

The question burned into his mind as he went about the day, stealing any peace he might have found in it and burning it to ash. As much as he was dying to speak to Byleth, her attention was thoroughly divided between all her other friends and allies who hovered around her like a pack of worried owls. He was glad of it, prayed that she could see how much she was cared for, how much she _mattered_ to them, because how long could a person survive if they weren't sure they were meant to exist?

He'd made it as far as he had because of his parents, because of their unconditional love for him.

Infuriatingly enough, it wasn't until the next day that he managed to catch her by herself. He found her sitting by her father's grave, fresh flowers having replaced the last, her knees pulled up to her chest. She looked up at his approach and smiled hesitantly.

He hated the fear in her eyes. It was time to squash it for good.

“Hey Teach. Mind if I sit with you?”

“No...of course not.”

Claude eased himself into the grass next to her. Irrationally he wondered if he should take her hand before quickly dismissing the thought. “Jeralt loved you a lot,” he said quietly, deciding to start with that. “He talked about you all the time. He worried a lot, worried that isolating you from the world would hurt you...but everything he did, he did because he loved you.”

She looked forlornly at her knees. “I...I think I always knew. But I could never put it to words. For the longest time it was just...a fact of the world. The sun rose in the east, rain fell from the sky, my father loved me. It wasn't something I felt, it was just something that _was._ Until here. Until you. Then I could feel it, really feel it for the first time...but...I think the only thing I ever did was cry for him.”

“He knew,” He hoped his confidence was reassuring.

Byleth's fingers slid down to his wrist, pressing softly against his pulse. Claude's heart nearly jumped into his throat as a heat burned through his cheeks. “He said it made him happy. That was the last thing he said. That counts for something, doesn't it?”

“...Yeah.” He thought about his uncle, sometimes. His mother had good memories of him; he'd helped her slip out of the mansion when she'd run off to chase his father. He wondered if Godfrey would have had trouble looking at him, as his grandfather did, or if he would have loved him in spite of everything.

But he would never get to find out. Godfrey died ( _was murdered_ ) before they had the chance to meet. He wondered if the uncertainty would ever feel worse than the degree of closure that Byleth had managed to grasp in those rain-soaked moments.

“Aren't you going to ask me about it?” She asked softly. “You know now, don't you?”

“I'm sitting here, trying to figure out what the hell Rhea did to you that your heart doesn't beat – and more to the point, what kind of purpose that's supposed to serve.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, I'm coming up completely blank. The best I can think of is that maybe it has something to do with your Crest, and maybe the Sword of the Creator through it.”

Byleth lifted her head and gazed blankly at him. “And...that's it?”

“That's the part that matters, isn't it?” Claude answered. “Look, Lethe-” Her eyes widened at the new nickname; he stuttered over it, bewildered by his sudden boldness, before quickly continuing. “-did you really think I'd suddenly become afraid of you, or something stupid like that? You're my friend.” _My dearest friend, come so dangerously close to my heart I wonder daily if everyone can see it._ “I've seen you worrying endlessly over us in battle, indulging your sweet tooth whenever the kitchens have the sugar available, petting and playing with cats, getting fired up whenever you're asked to spar...there's no way I could ever believe you were less than human.”

“What kind of human doesn't have a heartbeat?” She challenged quietly. “What kind of human never feels pain, in her body or her heart?”

“One who had a very shady woman involved with her birth?” He responded dryly. “And as for not feeling pain...well, that's demonstratively false. Or I wouldn't have found you wailing fit to wake the dead after your father was taken from you.”

“Claude...” Byleth gazed over at him. Her eyes were strangely shimmery.

“Even if your heart doesn't beat, it's warm enough to take in a lazy schemer and turn him into someone worthwhile. Only a compassionate person could do something like that...and what makes a person human if not empathy?”

She said nothing, swallowing. Instead her grip tightened on his wrist, her fingers pressing insistently against his pulse. Something bright, jagged and _hot_ flickered through his stomach, and he smiled awkwardly in response. After a long moment, she looked up at him with a sweet smile of her own and said, “Claude...you know...the most confusing thing about you is how much effort you put into pretending you aren't a kind, gentle man.”

Ah, there was that guilt again. He'd wondered where it had run off to. “I'm not much of one,” he said softly. “You just bring out the best in me.”

Byleth shook her head, bringing his hand up and lacing her fingers with his. His heart started hammering as if it was trying to worm its way free of his chest. “I wish you wouldn't smile when your eyes are so sad,” She murmured. “You did the same thing the very first time I saw you”

Claude choked and turned to stare at her. There were no words to describe the shock. Years of hiding, fooling people twice his age, controlling everything he felt, and yet she had taken one look at him and... “You...noticed...?”

She gently stroked the back of his hand, smiling compassionately at him. “I said that I chose you because you were kind to me, because you treated me like a normal person. It's true, but not the whole truth. When I met you, and you gave me that cheerful grin that couldn't reach up to your cold, lonely eyes...I knew that, somehow, you were like me.”

Panic was his first, expected reaction. How much did she suspect? How much did she _know_? If she travelled far enough, she might well know what Almyran children looked like. But if she knew, what would she...how would she...?

“I just don't understand why.” Byleth murmured. “You _are_ kind, Claude. You agonize over battle planning because you can't stand the thought of any of your classmates getting hurt. You're always so quick to pick up other's spirits with a joke and your infectious laughter. You're humble, unlike so many other nobles; you never set yourself above others, and you're _smart_ – clever in ways that are really impressive to see unfold. How could anyone not welcome you? How could you not belong in any place you chose to call home?”

...Just like that, all that old panic and fear melted like morning mist – leaving him staring wide eyed at her. “That's...” He swallowed. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but a long history of pain and so many betrayals imprisoned them. “I...it's hard to explain.” He closed his eyes. “Okay, that's bullshit. It's very simple. But...you remember we talked once, and I mentioned attempts on my life? This...this is why.” He laughed bitterly. “Something so simple...something borne out of love, and there have been people hating me for it for as long as I can remember.”

“...Claude...remember...you don't owe me an explanation.”

“I know, Lethe.” He could still feel that warm, bubbly gratitude and _affection_ that had swamped him when she calmly told Edelgard to lay off him that night. “I just...I _want_ to tell you. It's – it's not fair that you're sitting here, pouring your heart out after I actively went looking for your secrets, while I just sit on top of this. And I-I trust you.” He nearly gasped in wonder when the words slipped out and he realized how _true_ they were. The truest things he'd ever said. He could put his beating heart in her hands and know it was safe. “But it's hard. Harder than it has any right to be.”

“That's okay.” She whispered. “You can tell me on your own time.” Her hand was so warm in his. “Until then...I'll just have to keep trying to make you smile until your eyes brighten. You're very handsome when you're truly happy, Claude.”

Claude tilted his head to look at her, drinking in her kind words and beautiful smile. The first time he'd seen her break her stoicism, he thought he might be in trouble. The first time she _laughed_ , he'd _known_ he was in trouble. It would have been one thing if she was just beautiful, the most beautiful woman he'd ever lain eyes on; but she was his friend too, his confident, his protector.

And every promise, every word of affection, every expression of concern and every time she saw straight through the masks that had so long protected him...it was fanning a fire that was burning through his chest every time he looked at her.

“You think so?,” He asked, trying to sound playful; somehow, he sounded a little breathless instead.

Byleth looked up at him earnestly, a red tinge spreading across her cheeks. “Of course,” She murmured. “I mean, you've always been handsome...but it's especially noticeable when you're really smiling.”

This girl...this girl...goddess, what was he going to do with her? “That's lovely. I happen to think that you're especially pretty myself.”

“Y-You're being sweet,” Byleth stumbled over the words a bit. “There's plenty like me.”

“There's no one like you, Lethe.”

Her blush darkened. “What happened to 'Teach'?”

For the second time in two days, Claude moved before his brain could catch up with him. “Well, if I called you that, I'd get in trouble for doing this.”

He slipped one arm around her shoulders and tilted her toward him so he could kiss her; her soft lips were even sweeter than he'd dreamed. There was a muffled 'mmph?!' of surprise from her at first; briefly some tiny part of his brain not paralyzed by the intoxicating sensation of their embrace waited in frozen terror for her to punch him halfway across the graveyard. But instead, calloused fingers brushed against his cheek as she clasped his face, leaning against him more as she returned his impulsive gesture. Her other hand slid down his shoulder to his chest, tracing a burning line across his skin until it came to a rest over his heart. She let out a soft mewl into his mouth, her lips moving against his.

The blissful moment came to an end moments later when she released him with a soft _pop_ ; her face burned a flaming red as she panted for breath. “Oh,” She whispered. Her eyes brightened as she looked up at him, pupils blown wide. She looked stunned.

“Ah...” _Oh Sothis, what was I thinking?_ “Ha, I probably shouldn't have-”

Byleth kissed him mid sentence, practically leaping into his lap. He would deny flailing and toppling over onto the grass with her sprawled on top, her chest pressing against his, one leg tangled with his. He laughed in surprise and delight, licking her lip with his tongue causing her to make a sinfully cute squeak as he wrapped his arms around her.

 _I'm in love,_ he thought dazedly, and then that realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

Byleth broke the kiss, placing her hands on either side of his head, her expression bent somewhere between a hazy joy and confused bewilderment. “That...that was...ah...” She looked down at his chest, seemingly noticing for the first time how she'd pinned him, and somehow turned an even darker shade of red. “W...what is this I'm feeling now? I've felt warm around you...but I'd never...never _wanted_...” The inflection on the word bordered on some of his own teasing insinuations. She stammered to a stop and buried her face in his chest, shy and uncertain laughter muffled by his coat.

“Never wanted what?” Claude whispered pleadingly. He'd never begged for anything in a long time, but goddess help him he _needed_ to know how she'd meant to finish that sentence.

“Professor!” Naturally, Hilda decided to ruin _everything_ by yelling from the top of the stairwell. Byleth stiffened in a panic; they shared a quick look and immediately scrambled apart and back to their feet. The pink haired menace stuck her head over the stone railing mere moments later. “Professor, I've got a question for you – oh, and for Claude too I guess. Can you come up here?”

“Yes! Yes, I'm coming Hilda.” She ran up the stairs two at a time, Claude sedately following her as he desperately tried to school his face back into its usual casual mask.

\+ _ + _ + _

Okay, maybe Hilda wasn't a total menace. Or maybe the universe was conspiring to force him to be honest with his Teach, because why else would they go straight from that conversation to Fodlan's locket to battle Almyran invaders?

For the given value of 'invade', anyway. Claude knew just from the formations he could see from the wall that it wasn't a dead serious invasion, just a test to see if Holst was still sharp – and with him out of commission, to see what Hilda was made of.

To see what their prince was made of.

“ _Hilda's not so green you can get past her with only this many men,_ ” He told the general – one of Nader's old friends, he'd seen him a number of times in his youth – after driving him out of the air. _“She surprised you, didn't she?_ ”

The man snorted. “ _Not as much as you did, princeling. If I hadn't seen that pretty thing ordering you around slice the cursed bird in half with one swing of her sword and fight two wyverns at once, I'd be wondering what to tell your father._ ”

“ _Byleth is our master of war,”_ Claude retorted simply. _“She has few equals, if any.”_

The man cocked an eyebrow. “ _Is that so? Hmph. Well, I suppose I've never seen a westerner kill one of those birds so easily before._ ” He finished bandaging his wyvern and remounted it. “ _Be careful who you bring back from your pilgrimage, princeling. Wandering Fodlan is an odd enough choice as it is._ ”

Claude didn't get to swear at him before he took off. Probably a good thing.

He turned around to see Byleth watching him from a nearby hill. It was a bit too distant to be sure, but he was pretty sure she was curious. Old fear coiled inside him like a venomous snake; he tried to quash it, _she won't care she's my friend she's mine_ , but so many years of being worn down by jeers and hissed curses and _half-breed_ spat at him like an arrow kept it there. He waved at her cheerfully; she paused and then gave him a tiny wave in return.

A moment later, Hilda popped up next to Byleth and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. She waved and then said something to her. Whatever she was, Byleth practically jumped out of her skin, scrambling away from her and waving her arms frantically. For a moment Claude wondered what on earth could be wrong, but then he realized that Hilda was too relaxed for there to be a problem. She must have been teasing Teach...

A lazy half smile crossed his face as he made his way towards them. _It's adorable that Teach has such clear and obvious emotional responses to that now._ “And here I thought you'd be off complaining to your brother,” he teased upon reaching them. Something was a little odd; Byleth was blushing as hard as the moment he'd kissed her, and Hilda looked immensely smug. “What's holding you up?”

“Making a few suggestions, and a promise.” Hilda replied sweetly. Byleth squeaked – actually _squeaked,_ that was so funny to see while she was stained with blood and dirt and feathers from killing those demonic beasts – and gave her a mortified look. “Let's go get cleaned up. Ah, I'm so glad that everyone's alright.”

She scampered off ahead of them, no doubt to corral the rest of the Golden Deer. Byleth walked over to his side, touching his arm and murmured, “Claude? I didn't realize you spoke Almyran. How did you convince the general to retreat?”

For a moment, he wavered. _I can still back out. Just tell her it was a useful thing to know._ But he could still see her smile, hear her call him dearest friend, and instead he said, “I didn't so much convince him as encourage him. Almyrans are not huge on negotiation, only strength. As for the language...well, it was the first one I ever learned.”

Byleth's step paused for a brief moment, but she didn't stop walking. “You're Almyran?” She asked softly. No disbelief. No condemnation. No disgust. She simply sounded curious.

Claude thought his heart might burst. _I love you._

“On my father's side.” He confirmed. The words were so heavy on his tongue. “I told you that my mother was living in a different world than she grew up in. Well, that's because she fell in love with a man on the wrong side of the border and had the guts to leave home in order to pursue that love. My grandfather had forbidden her, or tried to, and very few people on either side of the wall were enthused by the match.” He clenched his fist. “My mother wasn't intimidated by any of that, though. She loved him, and loved me when I was born, and that was all that mattered to her. She fought to be tolerated, then begrudgingly respected by my father's peers. She fought for her place in the world, in my father's world. And when I wanted to see the world of her birth, her family, she fought to make that possible.”

“She sounds incredible,” Byleth said after a moment in which she digested that.

“Where I come from, the people of Fodlan are viewed as cowards,” Claude sighed. “And when I got here, I found out that the people of Fodlan view anyone outside their borders as literal and figurative monsters. All I know is what I'm not.”

Her hand stole into his. “I know who you are,” She responded. “You're the most talented leader in your generation. You're a brilliant orator who can convince anyone to trust in your seemingly mad schemes. You're a good man with a kind heart.”

He laughed a little – soft, weak, but true and warm and honest. “How can you do that?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“Walk over everything I put up to defend myself like it isn't even there?” His fingers slid in between hers, squeezing her hand, holding her as if she would disappear when he let go. “It's been so long...so long since I've really been able to trust someone. I really do wonder if the goddess sent you to me. My miracle.”

A massive crack of thunder rang overhead. Claude glanced up at the dark gray sky, sighed and was about to comment on getting rained in and how annoying that was when Byleth unexpectedly kissed him; briefly, but confidently. It startled a laugh out of him, and he put his arms around her. “You weren't worrying about me, were you?”

“How could I not? I don't like not being able to see you when we're fighting.” She clutched his shoulders. “I don't like not being near you. It makes me anxious.”

He laughed and deliberately kissed her forehead. “I'll keep that in mind.”

\+ _ + _ + _

It was pouring rain in short order, and violently storming by the time dinner was finished. Holst gladly offered to host them until traveling back to Garreg Mach was feasible. Claude was in such a good mood that even Lorenz's grumblings was mere background noise; all through dinner he kept one eye on Byleth, noting with delight that her good mood was holding. This was the longest he'd seen her happy ever since her father died.

His guest room and Byleth's were up in one of the towers, which suited him fine in spite of the storm. Though he couldn't say he was expecting to turn around and catch sight of something that he'd only idly fantasized about.

Byleth was standing by her window, staring out into the storm. She wore nothing but her night dress, which didn't reach quite past her thighs. His throat went dry; instead of immediately closing the door like a sensible person, he stood rooted in place like he'd been hit by a freeze curse. _Goddess..._

Clearly feeling his eyes on her, Byleth turned around and blinked at him. Then she raised a hand to her lips and blushed, and Claude was suddenly, acutely aware that he'd been in the process of taking his shirt off when he'd caught sight of her.

“Byleth...”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda gave Claude and Byleth rooms opposite each other for a reason. Two hearts open up to each other completely.

“Byleth...”

“Hey,” She said softly. There was something in the air between them then, something hot, thick and buzzing like a thunder spell. Claude swallowed, feeling more up in the air than the last time he'd taken Josephine for a flight. “Would you come see something?”

“If you'd like,” He replied, his voice equally quiet, as if breathing too loudly would shatter the moment like glass. The moment of their first kiss burned at the back of his mind, her hair tickling his cheeks, her chest pressed against his; he'd _never_ been so agonizingly aware of her beauty as she laughed shyly and said she wanted something, wanted him... “But...that might be...” A flicker of confused hurt flashed in her eyes, and he managed to finish, “I...wouldn't want to get you in trouble.”

“We're as far away from the rest of the class as we can get without being in the servant's quarters.” She replied softly. “This late in the night, with the storm outside, there would have to be quite a racket up here to draw any attention.”

Claude's teenaged mind helpfully noted that he could be quiet when he needed to be. The rest of him frantically stomped on it while a fresh wave of blood rushed to his cheeks. “Alright then,” He said, forcing his usual smile. He took one step forward, then another, and then walked into her room; a strange thrill ran up his spine. “What's out there in the rain that's so interesting?”

She gave him a little half smile when he came to a stop at her shoulder. “It's the rain itself,” She murmured, looking out across the fields they'd fought on. “I remember once a traveling priestess we met on the road said that the Goddess was in the rain. Whenever it started to storm, I would watch the rain fall down and wonder if that meant I was close to her; as close as I could get, as I was.”

“Is that right?” He watched the deluge with curious eyes, running a hand through his hair. “I'll admit my thoughts have been less profound...though I've always loved the night sky, even when the storms roll in.”

“Shall I consider this her approval?” She wondered, placing a hand on the glass. It struck Claude for the first time how small and delicate her fingers looked in the low light; it was startling, with how much he associated her with unyielding strength. “For my decision...to live my life as an ordinary human in Leisceter, in spite of everything?”

“In the Alliance?” He turned to her, his eyes falling over the elegant curve of her neck and her bare, scarred shoulders. His heartbeat picked up. Did that mean...was she saying...?

“I made up my mind, my friend,” She said, her finger tracing a raindrop as it rolled down the cold glass. Even only illuminated by candlelight, he could see the blush in her cheeks. “After you graduate, I intend to retire from my position and sell my sword to you; and by extension, the rest of the deer. The rest of the company aren't tied to the church in any way, so I doubt they'd dispute my decision.” She smiled shyly at him. “It won't be anything you can't afford; you know, to have me lingering about the Riegan Dukedom.”

“Well I wouldn't want you underselling yourself,” Claude was fairly certain his heart was literally, physically in his throat. “But moving to the Alliance? That's about one-third of the prospects you're used to, isn't it?”

She shrugged. “That's a small price to pay for you. Claude...” She paused, debated whatever it was she had intended to say, then quietly asked, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” He whispered.

“What brought you here to Fodlan?” She turned to him as lightning flashed and struck a tree in the plains, illuminating her figure like a page from a storybook. “I remember you said some time ago that you only recently learned your mother was Duke Riegan's daughter, and you came here to see her side of the family. I know how curious you are, but I've wondered...well, I wondered about your dream, the one you need power to make a reality.” Her soft blue eyes ran over him, flickering up and down for a quick moment that would have made him smirk coyly if it were _anyone_ but her. “What brought an Almyran boy to the Officer's Academy?”

Claude met her gaze in silence for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then he smiled, reaching up and brushing his fingers through her hair. “Well, the question you want to ask is 'what brought an Almyran prince to the heart of the institution that banned him from Fodlan'?”

Byleth's eyes widened as she stared at him. When he grinned at her wonderfully expressive, stupefied face, she smacked his bare chest with the palm of her hand and repeated, “ _Prince?_ ” in a strangled squawk.

“What, do I not look like one?” He replied, looking playfully hurt. His traitorous heart skipped a dozen beats when she turned quite red and _very clearly_ gave him a once-over before dropping her eyes to her feet, stammering a bit in the process. “It's true, I promise. That doesn't amount to much in the way of special treatment over there, mind you. In Almyra, the throne is _won,_ not inherited. I'm called a prince because my father fought for and claimed the throne when he was a bit older than me; the title is a gesture of respect to that victory, and an expectation – that since I was born to such a great warrior, in turn _I_ will win many great battles.”

“Oh,” Byleth managed, shyly looking up at him. “I...I think I remember hearing about that once.”

“You did, huh?” He smiled. “To sum up the why, very briefly...I came here to unite my people. Both sides of my blood, that's always divided the person that I am, banned me from everywhere I should have felt at home.” He looked away from her, out the window, suddenly nervous. “Not because I want to get back at everyone. But because there's no reason for any of us to fear or hate each other. It's only ignorance, fear, and stubborn lingering doubts, that keep us apart. But if I can prove there's nothing to be afraid of, nothing to resent, nothing to _hate_...well, what good couldn't come from that?”

For the second time, her hand slid into his. “I think....yes.”

“Yes?”

“I think I could follow a king like that forever.”

“...Lethe...” Surely she had to be able to hear his heart racing, feel him burning up in her hand. The hot, bubbly affection he'd felt with increasing frequency rushed through him, filling him up with a burning, aching _want_ that he hadn't felt in a long time. Thought he'd never be able to feel, shunned as he was. “May I kiss you?”

“Please,” She responded softly.

Claude gathered her in his arms and met her lips halfway; pleasure swamped his senses as he tangled his fingers in her soft blue locks and pressed her closer to him. Feeling the gentle pressure of her breasts against his chest, separated only by the thin fabric of her nightgown, was almost as pleasing as parting her lips with his tongue and exploring her sweet mouth. The long, sweet moan she let out went straight to his groin; she was so close, all but pinned to him, there was no way she didn't notice. He was so embarrassed, so flustered (when had he ever so shy around a woman?) that he broke the kiss and backed up a bit. “Sor-” Byleth chased him and swallowed his apology into her mouth; she leaned backwards and hooked her ankle around his lower leg, letting the motion carry them until she stumbled into a wall and he pressed her up against it. Her hand slid down his back, stroking his coiled muscles as her tongue tangled with his; the other carded through his hair, stroking his locks with the air of one comparing them to previous dreams.

The kiss caused the feeling to spread like an open flame; Byleth rocked forward as if he still wasn't close enough, sending spikes of adrenaline through his veins. Knowing he needed to say this before he lost his head completely, Claude broke the kiss and whispered, “Lethe...is this what you wanted? When, when you kissed me then this is what you wanted?”

“Yes.” She whispered, her voice already breathy and ruined, her eyes raking over him with desperate longing. “Yes, I do, I, I'd never wanted a man before you; I'd never wanted anyone before you.” She kissed his upper lip gently. “I've never felt this way.” She traced a second one against his cheek. “No one makes me feel like this.” Her mouth pressed a burning line along his jaw toward his neck. “Maybe I'm young, but I know what love is now; my friend, I love the other deer, but I don't love them the way I love you.”

He stared into her eyes, cradling her face in his hands, while his vision went completely blurry and burned with tears.

“Claude?” She asked fearfully, reaching up and brushing his cheeks. “Claude, what's wrong?”

“I...” He rasped, a terrible sound getting caught in his throat. He coughed a bit, and then was amazed to find himself laughing. “Do you know what I told myself, after all those times people rejected me as a half breed? That I would never fall in love. It was...too dangerous. And then you wandered into my life and I...I've broken all the rules that have kept me safe. I stand with you at my back. I keep faith. I trust you. I...I love you, Lethe.”

Her amazed, heartbroken little 'oh...' cracked what little composure he had left. He slid an arm under her legs and swept her up in his arms. “I want you,” He murmured, pressing a kiss against her temple as he carried her to her bed and set her down on it. “I want you so badly it hurts. May I?”

Byleth smiled sweetly at him and whispered teasingly, “Well, you have to close the door first.”

He couldn't help the sudden burst of laughter at that, despite how mortifying that realization was. “Oh, right.” Scrambling across the room, he grabbed the handle and shut the door – barely remembering to be gentle at the last second. Twisting the lock and giving it an experimental tug (just to be safe), he turned back to her and grinned sheepishly.

She perched patiently on the edge of her bed, one hand tracing her muscular thigh, her face a mixture of longing and nervousness. Claude swallowed, again, as he walked back toward her and knelt between her legs. The thought that no on else had ever touched her was both gratifying and anxiety inducing; despite his casual bravado, his actual experience with such matters was limited, and he desperately wanted to please her.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked.

“I want all of you,” She murmured, hesitantly grasping the edge of the gown in her hands. She seemed to war with herself for a moment, then slowly pulled it up and over her head, leaving her naked in the lamplight as she cast the black fabric aside.

Claude's heart skipped another painful beat as he finished unbuttoning his shirt and tossed it aside. Dressing modestly had done both little and _everything_ for Byleth's gorgeous body; he'd known she was beautiful, well formed despite the rough life of a mercenary, but the sheer truth of it...well, even his dreams paled in comparison. The scars that cut sharp lines across her stomach, arms, legs and shoulders were starkly visible too...but what could they do against such ethereal beauty?

Byleth didn't seem to agree with that sentiment, however. She almost immediately wrapped her arms around her breasts and hunched over slightly, biting her lip. “I'm...a bit of a mess, aren't I?” She asked with a sad laugh.

“You're beautiful,” He retorted earnestly, placing both his hands on her thighs. She gasped at the contact, at the motion as he slid them up her pale, shapely legs.

“I have more scars than some militiamen,” She countered self consciously. That sad sound dissolved into a startled squeak when he planted a kiss on her knee.

“Lethe,” He purred, “Would you like to know something about Almyra?” He squeezed gently, his thumbs rubbing circles on her muscles. “The only kind of woman, or man, worth marrying is one who can beat you in a fight; one who will fight your battles with you. These scars, Lethe...they only make me want you _more_.”

He rose jut enough to kiss her again; she moaned, soft and happy, her fingers tangling back in his hair. He wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer, let her strong legs wrap themselves around his waist. Leaning his knee against the edge of the bed, he toyed with her tongue for a few intoxicating moments ( _just this much sent hot spikes through his manhood_ ) before pulling away and playfully trailing kisses along her jaw and toward her neck.

“You're...are romantic...” Byleth laughed sweetly, “I...I wouldn't have...ah!” Her words broke off when he kissed the column of her neck, sucking hard against her pulse point. Claude hummed, pleased at her reaction, and kissed her again, and again, nipping at the base of her neck and then her collarbone. “O-Oh...” She raised one hand to her mouth, undoubtedly worried about making _too much_ noise; a well timed decision, as Claude pulled back a bit and drank in her chest with his intense gaze.

“I'm in love,” he disputed lightly, before cupping her large breasts in his warm hands. Byleth gasped, muffled by her fingers; she looked at Claude with hazy loving eyes, legs tightening around his waist as his fingers began to move, stroking and fondling her sensitive skin. He rubbed a calloused fingertip in a circle around the tip, unable to help the moan that escaped him. “If I may...” He waited for her to smile at him before lowering his head and replacing one of his hands with his mouth. She whimpered, her hand grasping the back of his neck as his tongue brushed over her nipple, caressing it; he could feel her getting wet against his stomach. He gripped her hip and tightened his hold on her, enjoying the muffled cry his rougher handling elicited.

Claude released her with a soft _pop_ and gently brushed her fingers aside. “Good?” He asked, too lost in a hazy glow of adoration to make the question a taunt, a tease. She nodded vigorously and kissed him; he momentarily explored the familiar wet warmth of her mouth with a sigh of contentedness. How had he lived without this? How had he lived without _her_? “Good.” He bent back to his work, working her other breast in his mouth and reveling in how it made her shiver and shake. He hadn't done much and she was already so worked up...

A moment later, he drew his head away from her chest with a bit of reluctance. “I love you,” Byleth said again. It still made his heart leap.

“I love you too,” He replied softly. “Lie down, Lethe.” She let out a small, questioning sound; he gently pressed his hands against her breasts and guided her down until she lay on her back, mostly on the bed with her legs hanging off the side, still locked around him. He withdrew his hands then and guided her thighs apart, shifting so he was fully back on his knees. “Let me venerate my queen.” He kissed her inner thigh, the only warning he gave her before he buried his face in her entrance and pushed his tongue inside of her.

“ _Claude,_ ” Byleth's voice was a strangled, muffled sob of delight as his tongue traced lazy circles inside of her. She twisted her head to the side and buried her face in the blankets she'd pulled back moments ago, muffling her cries in the silk and cotton. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging on the brown curls as she urged him closer, wordlessly begged for more as he lapped at her clit. “ _mmmmmph, Claude...Claude...!_ ”

He moved his tongue faster, slid back and forth on the spot that made her writhe the most; the burning feeling of her nails digging into his scalp was welcome, wonderful even. Hearing her muffled cries was almost as intoxicating as the thick, sweet taste of her that was filling his mouth as he worked to please her, to make her as happy as she'd made him...he coiled his tongue and sucked hard, causing her hips to buck up against his face.

She gasped and pleaded in broken, fragmented, incoherent sentences, utterly helpless, her mind spinning wildly. This was better than being drunk, better than the thrill of battle, better than anything her new feelings had given her up until this point. She thrust her hips up against his face again, loving how he licked and sucked harder in response; a hot wave of _something_ wound up from her stomach and crashed over her with a resounding force as she came into his mouth. When it passed, she slumped boneless against the mattress, stars flickering in and out when she blinked.

Claude licked her through it all, chasing her first orgasm until it was over, then carefully stood up. He was aching now, stiff to the point of pain; he'd nearly come with her then, but resisted the urge. Those kinds of stains on the floor would be hard to explain, after all. “Lethe?” He asked gently, crawling onto the bed until he was on all fours above her.

Byleth rolled over and gazed adoringly up at him as she caught her breath. “You haven't hurt me, Claude,” She responded, reading his concern in his eyes. “You're wonderful.” She grasped his wrist and guided that hand back to her chest. “You and your clever mouth.”

He laughed again, softly, almost incredulous. “Only you,” He whispered, rubbing his mouth on his arm as he gently stroked her breast, pulling another soft moan from her. “Only you.” He bent to kiss her.

She wrapped her arms around him, bringing him down on top of her as she deepened the kiss. “Let me now,” She murmured. “Let me get you ready too.”

He stroked her hair. “Are you sure? I don't want you to choke.”

She blushed hotly when she figured out what he meant by that, but met his gaze determinedly nonetheless as she rolled him onto his back and sat up. Her hands raked down his chest, thumbing his corded muscles and massaging his stomach. She hesitated at his hips, eyes flickering with nerves, before giving his manhood a few gentle strokes.

“Ah...” Claude swallowed hard and dug his fingers into the mattress. Byleth tucked her hair behind her ears and lowered her head, taking the tip of his cock into her mouth. “Ah, Lethe...!” Quiet, he reminded himself frantically, quiet, he couldn't ruin this by waking half the castle, she'd been so good for him, he had to do the same...

Byleth's tongue stroked his length experimentally, then enthusiastically as she took in more and more of him; Claude focused on her hair tickling his hips and his legs wrapped around hers, fighting the urge to thrust up into her mouth and completely overwhelm her. He choked back a moan, bits and words of a language she didn't understand as her head bobbed up and down; clumsy, yet dangerously effective.

“L-Lethe, I'm close...” He warned her in a rasp. To both his relief and disappointment, she released his manhood at that, blue eyes glittering brightly. “Sothis, you're going to be the death of me.” He sat up, wrapping his arms around her and turned her around so she took his place lying against the blankets and pillows; he shifted her a bit until he was sure she was completely comfortable.

“You taste good,” She informed him with a sleepy smile. Claude sputtered out a weak laugh; wasn't _he_ supposed to be the one saying things like that?

“That's mutual, my queen,” He told her instead, leaning over and kissing her briefly as he lined his hips up against hers. He pulled away as he did so, teasingly rubbing the head of his slick manhood against her folds. “My queen,” The words slid off his tongue like a prayer.

“I love you,” She told him again. Somehow she knew he wanted needed to hear it again.

He captured her lips in a kiss and sank into her tight warmth. Her response was immediate and gratifying; not hugely over the top, but she buckled and then relaxed as she took him in, stretching ever so slightly to accommodate his length until he was completely inside her. One of her hands buried itself in his hair, the other clasped his hand and threaded their fingers together, clinging to each other; their mutual groans muffled by the kiss.

Claude waited a moment, even as it tormented him, for her to adjust to his weight and presence, then momentarily broke their kiss. “This is the hardest part to keep quiet,” He mused. “I'll just have to keep kissing you. Well, that's no hardship.” She giggled and gasped as he slid out of her part way, and then thrust back in, pushing her deeper into the bed and crushing her lips under his.

He'd meant to start slow, he really had, but he'd held out against the base lust she inspired in him for as long as possible, and when she started bucking her hips up to meet him, his control slipped away. He thrust into her in a rapid, almost rough pace; shifting his hips just a bit rewarded him with a particularly hoarse cry against his mouth. Their joined hands pressed against each other to the point of bruising; he could feel her trembling, let out an appreciative sigh as she wrapped her legs around his hips again.

Claude could taste her pleas, her laughter, her joy on her lips. Occasionally his eyes flickered open to see those blue orbs hazed over with desire, fixed on his face. He had never felt so utterly loved in all his life.

She came quickly as he pounded into her, her inexperience shining through. As her walls tightened on him, that tipped him over the edge; he came at long last, collapsing on top of her. He lay there for a moment, drinking in the feeling of being inside of her while he regained control of his faculties one by one. Then their lips parted; “I love you,” he swore, gently sliding out of her and cuddling up to her side – pulling the blankets over them.

“I know.” She whispered back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I finally worked up the nerve to write this. Is it good? I'm not sure. Do I now feel comfortable writing some of my other ideas? I think so. Will I write more like this? That's a hard maybe. I hope you guys enjoyed it!
> 
> Can I just say that Claude saying 'I love you' to Byleth gives me life? How scary was that for him to say? He probably spent a long time thinking no one would truly fall in love with him because of his mixed blood. But with her, he trusts and loves her enough to give himself to her completely. That's truly adorable and squee-inducing.

**Author's Note:**

> So. I was going to try and write a cute sex scene covering Byleth and Claude's first time, and ended up with hundreds of words of fluff and angst instead. My nerves are continuing to get the best of me, it seems. Hence this ends on a cliff hanger as I decide if I'll add that scene I'd originally intended to write either in a follow up chapter or a separate sequel fic.


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